


Share Our Fate

by yaoi_yaoieverywhere



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Magic-Users, Monsters, Muteness, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaoi_yaoieverywhere/pseuds/yaoi_yaoieverywhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[And Deserve Our Pity]</p><p>"Oh my child, no! No, it is a blessed thing, to give another a chance at life once more..." A hand smoothed their hair reverently. "My power buys time while yours is the power to Save. It's one of the most selfless things, if you use it right. The humans do not understand for now but you must know it is not a curse. Trust me, my child."</p><p>[Necromancer!Frisk in a Fantasy World]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share Our Fate

**Author's Note:**

> http://theatomicpumpkin.tumblr.com/ Completely enamored me with their FantasyTale AU... But I took it in a different direction... I'm so sorry, I beg for forgiveness,, I wanted monsters other than Dead and Undead,,,,
> 
> More?? Maybe??? I have Plans!! Pinky swear! But will I write them?? it's 3:30 AM I'mma sleep and regret now

They are told spells are magic, and power, and words. They have the natural tools from their birth. All except one anyway.

Frisk... Does not have the words. Not like the others do. Verbal magic is what's known best- it is kind, familiar, invigorating. You ask for what is wanted, and the power within grants your desire.

The magics that do not ask for words are more often than not simple little things or the darkest side of the crystal orb. Necromancy and Soul Magicks being a prime example. The entire business ran in blood and bone. But... You need not call out of the dead or the heart, because before you summon them, they have no ears with which to listen.

Practicing such branches was a worse fate than being unable to use magic, supposedly.

Supposedly.

"What good are you, having the magic but not the words?"

The other children did not understand, for either they had the gift and grew too proud to understand Frisk, or did not at were jealous that Frisk had the missing piece they could never gain. Or was it vice versa?

They were always suspect because they could not confess in a way most would understand.

"Sign Language ain't words, kid. No magic will respond to silly hand waving."

What, like it didn't respond to smacking weird sticks around either?

It was an odd thing, watching blind oracles revered for cryptic self-fulfilling things, and Frisk's voiceless visage bring only disdain. Pfft. Double standards, the lot of them.

Still, Frisk is a very strong child. At the tender age of twelve and a half, they decide to strike out on some sort of adventure. Maybe there was a place out there Frisk needed to be part of. But first- to the local staff maker. The Priestess.

Toriel was somewhat of an enigma around the town. She was not born here, and that was reason enough, but it was also that she was not human and rumor has it she had once been a Queen. Frisk just knew she didn't care that they couldn't speak, there was always warm pie at her place, and her magical implements were second to none.

She was also Frisk's adoptive mother, in all but paperwork.

Toriel was also the one who taught Frisk the Signs as they grew up. Most people in town only knew how they talked through ink and parchment but Toriel had given them another way to talk. It was perfect. They could feel the magic in the way their hands moved sometimes.

The feeling was that of crumbling dirt and warm like another person's touch.

Magic felt different to everyone- it indicated their strengths. Frisk had Necromancy and Soul Magicks. The books in school said that all people who touched such foul things were tainted by the netherworld. That there would be no happy end. Thus, not to practice it- or you too would fall to your own greed.

The books also went out of their way to describe vaguely how different branches felt. Earthen magic felt like the earth, yes, but more like solid rock. Necromancy... It felt like fresh turned dirt over a new grave. Soul Magick felt like another friend was touching you. Nothing else could feel quite like that.

Frisk remembered the first time they'd read those words. Realized what they were. They'd run all the way to Toriel, to Home, and cried into her pure white fur. Her magic was Healing and Life and Strength- the opposite of everything Frisk could ever be.

Tears ran down their face as their shaky hands told Toriel what they had found. She had covered her snout in shock. In horror?

[ _Why am I broken? Do you hate me for this, Mama? For what I didn't choose?_ ]

Instead Toriel had shaken her head from side to side wildly, scooping up Frisk and holding them tight to their chest.

"Oh my child, no! No, it is a blessed thing, to give another a chance at life once more..." A hand smoothed their hair reverently. "My power buys time while yours is the power to Save. It's one of the most selfless things, if you use it right. The humans do not understand for now but you must know it is not a curse. Trust me, my child."

It had been a few years since then. Now... Now they were ready to leave. It was still too early by most standards but Frisk had to.

Clutching the hem of their tunic, Frisk stood outside the temple for a moment. This would be their last chance to turn back. To give up on their magic.

But it had made Toriel so happy to teach them the runes and magic currents that ran through their body like veins...

They walked into her temple standing tall as they could.

She gave them a wan smile and handed over a staff already made just for them. It was of Rosewood and had a focusing orb red as blood. Frisk... had never seen one that color.

Then she ordered them to attack her- to kill her, in order to prove they could survive. They would not. They couldn't. Not mama...

Frisk reasoned with her. Pleaded and avoided her magic, tucking their staff under their armpit so they could use their hands to talk. To beg.

For an hour they went through her unrelenting attacks even as she started to lament what had happened before- how each youngling she'd allowed to go came back in a box or an urn. She was determined not to let Frisk do the same.

Finally Frisk raises their staff. Magic flows to the surface of their skin, comforting as it gently made the the loose things around them float in raw intensity. Then, they slammed the butt of it into the ground so hard Toriel's sparring room floor cracked. It was made of Stone- the good kind.

Long bone fingers reached through the crack. It crackled with orange energy. Then another hand breeched through, and pulled.

Frisk barely saw the elongated but most certainly human skull peak through before another skeletal hand reached up, much closer to Frisk. This one had a much brighter blue aura than the other but seemed to take it's sweet time.

Toriel and Frisk look up at the skeletal being that has completely hauled itself out of the crack. It- They?- are wearing clothing. Somewhat like a costume, with the red tattered scarf, and the odd top and bottom. Frisk didn't know what those things were called. There was a permanent smile on the being's face.

It's empty sockets turned to Frisk. Orange flickered in one of it's eyes. Toriel's hands lit with her magic, seemingly ready to punch it out only when it moved to gaze at Frisk.

"BROTHER- IS THAT-" ...Wow, that was kind of a funny voice coming out of the skeleton. Also, super loud.

The irony that a skeleton who had no obvious vocal cords could speak didn't escape Frisk.

"A HUM- Goodness, Sans, you're taking forever!"

"Not my fault we got summoned during a Union regulated break, bro." Jumping at the other voice, Frisk noticed the blue one was still halfway in the ground with a similarly permanent grin on his face. Except it looked a lot more... Cartoonish. Somehow.

"We are dead, there are no Union regulated breaks!"

"Death is the ultimate Union regulated break Papyrus." Frisk looked at Toriel, who seemed to be hesitating now that the two skeletons were having some sort of banter. Nodding to themselves, Frisk approached the blue one and offered him a hand.

His eyes had turned to them sharply the moment they'd moved. Blue flames sprung to life in his left eye socket. Swallowing, Frisk offered a hand nonetheless. Sans tilted his head to the side, grin seemingly growing wider as the flame flickered out. Impossible.

"Hey, nice to meet you too buddy. " Sans grasped their hand and a loud fart noise echoed around the room. Frisk blinked at it and felt their shoulder shake with mirth. "Ah, the good ol' whoopie cushion in the hand trick. Gets people every time."

"Sans! Don't prank the human!" The taller one ambled towards them- or was it more of a skip?- and helped Frisk pull the rounder one out. "We needn't waste time! I, the great Papyrus, was summoned by a human in distress! No doubt they're looking for me right now!"

Frisk blinked and waved the staff in their hands. Sans saw them do so and snorted.

"Bro, I think it might be this one."

"Don't be ridiculous Sans! They would have said so!"

Frisk fidgeted. Papyrus noticed the motion and squinted at them. He moved his hands in a familiar way- the signs for _'Who are you?'_ Frisk perked up immediately.

_'I'm Frisk. F-R-I-S-K. Sorry for interrupting.'_

"Why Sans, I think the human summoned us!"

"Heh. Good idea."

"Alright Frisk... You may go." Scooting to the side so they could see Toriel, Frisk felt sorrow grip them harshly. Their mom was letting them go.

They'd wanted this. But it hurt. Swallowing, they nodded. They ignored skeleton brothers who were now staring at them curiously as they fidgeted with their hem of their tunic.

Rushing over, Frisk hugged Toriel tight. They wanted to let her know they would come back. Not in a box but on their own two feet.

She clutched them desperately close. It was a little painful with how strong she was but Frisk didn't care right now. Who knows how long until they'd get another hug from her? Or another slice of pie?

"Stay safe." Finally she let them out of her embrace. Taking a shuddering breath, she whispered, "Please write home to me, dear child," before leaving the room. Frisk stared after her.

"Woah. Lotsa emotions there."

"Sans, don't be rude! It was a touching moment and you're spoiling it!"

"My bad."

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know much about ASL, or BSL, or much else about Sign Languages beyond they exist, it is hard to describe the motions, and Sign Names exist! I do not want to assume anything, but if you all have any tips or references, I would gladly take them. (Sign Names would be cool, but I dunno if there's any fandom standard ones yet.)
> 
> There is a REASON Papyrus and Sans and the others who Frisk summon will know English and Sign Language! It's because of the Necromancer's bond with the being they summon allowing the summon to pick up on their summoners languages automatically. Since Frisk is Mute but not Deaf here, they know both.


End file.
